


Debts of Love

by Adona



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adona/pseuds/Adona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love and longing, angst and anguish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debts of Love

Vila found himself, once again, standing outside the door to Avon's cabin. He couldn't count the number of times he had walked the corridor to this particular door, stood a few moments, and then gone away without knocking. This time, he hesitated a bit longer than usual.

To say that Vila wanted Kerr Avon was more than an understatement. In truth, he had never, in all his life, wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted this Alpha genius. It was an obsession that consumed his thoughts and dreams until he could concentrate on little else. And yet, what chance did he have -- an uneducated Delta thief? He was out of his league. Vila had learned long ago to expect very little good from life -- and to put up with the bad without complaints. What he wanted was irrelevant. He was a Delta -- ill-bred, ill-raised, ill-used -- a menial to do the grunt work, or to provide another's pleasure. That was his role. That was all anyone thought he was good for.

No, he corrected himself, these people did see him as more than that. Blake treated him almost as an equal. Avon -- well, the thief knew that many of the jabs Avon flung at him were done with an affection that only the two of them recognized. They were friends -- a rare gift to receive from the sullen genius. And here Vila stood, thinking of shattering those fragile cords by asking for more. 

He shook his head and turned to leave, just as he had done on all previous occasions. This time, though, he couldn't quite bring himself to walk away. The thought of another long day on the flight deck, watching the man as he worked, listening to his verbal parrying with Blake, accepting the scrap of an occasional insult, was just too much to bear. It was tearing him up inside. He needed more, or he needed to leave the Liberator. He couldn't go on like this. 

So, he decided, I'll go in, make a pass at him and, if he doesn't kill me before he throws me out, I'll talk to Blake tomorrow about finding a nice little planet for me to settle on. Vila leaned back against the wall opposite Avon's door, a lump rising in his throat. Was he really willing to give up the life he had found here for the sake of a cause that stood a slimmer chance even than Blake's? And, was he really willing to be separated from Avon forever? He shut his eyes. This wasn't much of a life, but it was better than he'd ever had any place else. More importantly, Avon was here. No, he told himself, he wasn't ready to lose it. With a sigh, he turned and walked the long, slow trek to his own cabin.

* * *

Avon emerged from the fresher in his pajamas. The shower that normally relaxed him had failed to do so this evening. He was perfectly aware of what was bothering him. It was the same thing that had been bothering him since the day he had first come aboard the Liberator. Vila.

He had to do something about Vila. Things could not go on this way. Today, on the flight deck, Avon had nearly lost his legendary restraint. The thief had been playing the fool, as usual, and Avon had allowed himself to be drawn into the verbal repartee. Trading jibes with Vila was the one thing he found true pleasure in on this ship, apart from the purely professional pleasure of working on the most advanced computer he had ever seen. Today, the jibes had gotten a little too personal. 

In the midst of the banter, Vila had called him "Avon the machine" again.

Without thinking, Avon had turned on him and responded with intensity, "I could prove you wrong, you know." Instantly, he regretted it. 

After a startled hesitation, Vila had responded with a lewd smile. "Yeah? Well, that might be interesting." And then he winked. 

The others had laughed at what they thought was a light-hearted play-threat. Avon, on the other hand, was left shaken by what he had said, by the fact that he had revealed so much, albeit in jest, in front of the others. In front of him. 

He speculated, as he had done countless times, about leaving the Liberator, about escaping this desolate existence. He had threatened Blake with his impending departure many times. He sighed heavily. He could not delude himself. 

* * *

Vila lay on his bunk, thoughts of Avon springing unbidden to his mind. He clenched balls of sheet into his fists as a few errant tears escaped his eyes. How many more nights would he lie here, thinking of Avon while he engaged in the solitary act of relief. It wasn't enough, and the misery of it was eating away his soul. He couldn't do it anymore. Yet, he saw no alternative short of leaving the ship. His desire for Avon was not something that was going to go away. He knew that, and he knew why. This wasn't mere lust, or infatuation. For the first time in his life, Vila Restal was in love. 

It had started over a year ago, on Earth, when the two men had shared a prison cell for that last week before being transferred to the communal lock-up to await transit to Cygnus Alpha. The moment the proud Alpha marched arrogantly into his cell, Vila had known that his heart was lost. He had often berated himself that he fell in love too easily. At his first glimpse of Avon, he realized that he had never fallen in love at all -- not until that moment, when his life had been changed forever. Even then, though, he hadn't imagined the depths that love could reach within him. Every day his feelings grew stronger, and every night his frustration grew more agonizing. Laying here tonight he had, at last, reached the breaking point. 

But what could he possibly say to Avon? How could he approach him? He really couldn't come up with a scenario that didn't culminate in humiliation and, very probably, pain. He could live with that, though. Physical pain was something he could get over. Humiliation -- well, that was something he had grown used to during his life as a Delta in the domes on Earth -- not to mention during his intermittent terms in prison. 

Vila had been forced to do many things in his life that he would not have chosen, and he had found quiet submission to be the best course of action. In fact, it had often worked in his favor. Some rapists had treated him relatively well when he'd yielded willingly -- the rare one might even see to Vila's pleasure as well as his own. Many times, they didn't feel the need to abuse their power so badly when they didn't have to prove it. Of course, there were times when nothing worked, Vila thought bitterly. Some rapists would hurt you no matter what you did, because they enjoyed it. With a shudder, he put those memories aside.

If there was anything that could work, however, Vila Restal knew how to do it. One burly fellow prisoner with violent sexual intentions had been so won over by the willing acquiescence Vila had offered him, that he became the thief's protector against all others. The man had a need for power, control over someone. Vila had given him that power -- had met that need. The convict had become absolutely addicted to the little thief, and less inclined to hurt him. Though Vila would never have freely chosen to be with the man, they had eventually developed something of a mutually-satisfying relationship. Vila had suffered fewer scars, emotionally and physically, during that prison stay than any other, and when the time came for his release, the other man had actually wept. 

Submission can be a powerful thing, Vila mused. 

He found himself wondering if he could use those talents at his own initiative. Could Avon be seduced in such a fashion? Was that the way through those imposing walls? He ran this new scenario through his mind -- his offer of himself to Avon with no demands, no expectations -- his complete capitulation to whatever Avon might want. A symbolic representation leapt to his mind of himself kneeling reverently at the feet of the dark specter of Kerr Avon. He smiled. The gods need their worshipers as much as the worshipers need their gods. It had always been an equitable arrangement. Vila realized that, from Avon, it would be enough for him. This time, it would be his choice, and he loved the man enough to make that choice. If only Avon would accept the offer.

With new-found determination, Vila rose, dressed, and made the familiar pilgrimage to the sanctuary of the object of his adoration. 

* * *

Avon poured himself a glass of wine and dropped heavily onto the curved white couch, his mind wandering. He found himself thinking again about that first day -- the day Vila had stolen his soul. 

He had not been pleased to be sharing a cell at all, let alone with an overly-friendly Delta. The man seemed determined to draw him into a conversation. Avon had given him no encouragement, going so far as to ignore direct questions. The foolish little thief had not been daunted, however. He had persisted with jokes and inane chatter until Avon had felt compelled to put a firm end to it.

Harshly, he had barked, "I am not interested in conversing with a fool. Will you be silent, or must I silence you myself?"

"All right, all right -- no need to bite my head off, Just tryin' to be friendly," the little man had replied, and had retreated to his bunk.

Avon spent the remainder of that day pointedly ignoring the other man, and he told himself he was content with the monotony of prison routine.

That night, however, monotony was not to be had. Shortly after "lights out," Avon heard the cell door slide open. Looking up, he saw the unmistakable silhouette of the large, nasty guard he had pointedly insulted earlier in the day. After one brief instant of confusion, Avon knew with sudden clarity why the man was there. He knew he was in trouble.

The guard approached his bunk just as Avon jumped up to defend himself. The effort was futile -- the guard was huge and powerfully strong. Without getting in a single punch, Avon was knocked limp by a fist to his jaw, and was unceremoniously re-deposited on his bunk, large hands holding him down. The man climbed on him, straddling him and holding him down as he leaned forward, smiling. Avon felt hot pungent breath on his face. His struggles yielded nothing -- he couldn't move. Terror shot like acid through Avon's veins. He was helpless. He was going to be raped, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Suddenly, an unexpected voice cut through his terror.

"That stuck-up Alpha won't be any fun. Why don't you try someone who can really show you a good time."

Avon was staring at the burly brut looming over him, who had turned to look at the other prisoner in surprise. Avon was too startled to react. 

"He's obviously a virgin," the thief persisted. "he wouldn't know how to satisfy a real man like you. I have a lot of experience. Why don't you come over here. You've never had better, I promise you that."

After another moment of hesitation, the guard looked down at the frozen Alpha, and then again at the thief across the cell. He seemed to be considering it.

Vila stood, and began slowly, erotically removing his gray prison-issue pajamas, enticing the rapist until the gruff hands loosened and released Avon's shoulders. The guard got up and crossed the cell, grabbing the Delta brutally.

Avon lay stunned for a few moments, hardly breathing, unable to believe that he was going to be spared. The sounds of violence assaulted him, and he turned to look at the other two men in the cell. What he saw nearly made him sick. The little thief was being viciously beaten and abused. Avon couldn't watch. He rolled over to face the wall, pulling his knees to his chest, and covering his ears with his hands.

Why had the thief done this -- surely he couldn't enjoy that? As much as he tried to deny it, Avon knew the answer -- the only possible answer. The man had done it to protect him. He had accepted this horror so that Avon didn't have to. Avon started shaking. No one had ever done anything like this for him -- sacrificing so much for him.

The sounds of the savage assault penetrated his ears, even through his hands. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. How could he listen to this? He didn't think he could bear it, but he couldn't shut it out. Tears escaped his eyes unnoticed. 

An eternity later, the guard exited, chuckling smugly. Then, dark silence descended. Slowly, Avon uncurled himself and turned to look at his cellmate. In the dim light, Avon saw the naked man huddled on the floor in the far corner of the cell, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Avon swallowed hard, fighting to calm himself. He knew he could never do enough to repay this man, but he would do what he could. He moved over to him, gently laying a hand on his bruised back. "How can I help?"

The thief shook his head. "You can't. Just leave me alone."

"No." What was his name? "Vila. . . please, let me help you." He slid his arms around the shaking man and moved him to the bunk. Getting a damp cloth, he began cleaning him up as gently as he could. 

Vila's condition made him nauseous. There were few places on his body that weren't bruised, there was a cut on his forehead, and deep scratches covered his back and chest. His lips were swollen, he had the beginnings of a black eye, and several broken ribs. There wasn't much Avon could do to help. There were no medical supplies, no pain killers, nothing. The prison medics would fix him up in the morning, but, tonight, there was simply no help. Avon tried to make Vila comfortable, and bathed him the best he could. 

He gasped when he came to the man's anus. It was terribly torn and bleeding badly. Avon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before tenderly cleaning the area and then using a clean cloth to try to slow the bleeding. 

When he had done all he could, he looked into the battered face of his savior. Vila's eyes were shut tight, and his breathing was still labored, though he was shaking less violently now. 

Avon laid a hand on the thief's tender cheek. "Vila. Look at me Vila, please." The fearful eyes opened slowly and met his. "Why? Why did you let him do that to you?" 

Vila didn't answer.

"Please, Vila. I need to understand. Why did you do that for me?"

Vila drew a deep, painful breath, and answered in a soft voice. "I remember the first time it happened to me. I don't want to see anyone go through that."

"So you'd rather take it yourself? No. There's more to it than that. I haven't even been nice to you, Vila. Why go through that to protect me?"

"Maybe I am a fool, like you said. I just didn't want to see you get hurt."

Avon stared into the guileless eyes for a long moment. "Thank you," he whispered. He carefully drew Vila into his arms, and let him drift off into a fitful sleep. Avon, however, remained awake. Looking into the sleeping face of the remarkable man he was holding, a confusion of emotions assaulted him -- anger, guilt, gratitude, and something more. Something that he couldn't name gripped his heart -- something that was, at the same time, fiercely protective and tenderly compassionate. He knew then that he was forever bound to Vila. 

Now, over a year later, Avon had found the name of the ever-growing emotion that held him firmly in its grasp. He was tormented by it -- by wanting so desperately what he could never ask for. He allowed Vila to believe in the illusion that he had cultivated of their casual, distant friendship, while maintaining his facade of indifference before the others. And so it would continue, for he couldn't leave the thief. Ever. Avon sighed deeply, and took a large swallow of wine.

* * *

Without giving himself time to reconsider, Vila knocked on the door. In moments, it slid open, and Avon faced him, clad in silky black pajamas. He gazed questioningly at the thief in the corridor.

Vila swallowed down his heart, which had suddenly leapt in to his throat, and said, "I hope I didn't wake you, Avon, but I'd like to talk to you, if you have the time."

"Of course. Come in." He stepped aside.

The cabin was dimly lit, and a half-full glass of wine sat on the table in the living area. Avon gestured that Vila should take a seat on one of the couches. He poured a glass for the thief and then resumed his seat on the opposite couch.

"So, Vila, what would you like to talk about?" His voice was friendly, and his eyes were reasonably unguarded, for Avon.

Encouraged, Vila pushed ahead. "You, actually. Are you happy here, Avon?"

"Happy? I haven't really given it much thought." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Sometimes, I am. . .content. Other times, I am not. Why do you ask?"

"I just want you to be happy, that's all," he smiled, sipping his wine nervously. 

Avon cocked his head slightly at that, mystified. He wasn't sure of the rules of this game. "I appreciate your concern," he stated. "What about you, Vila -- are you happy?"

"Me?" Vila asked in surprise. "Well, sometimes, I guess." He hadn't expected Avon to care about his happiness. He tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Is there any way I can help? To make you happy, I mean?"

Avon's eyes grew sharp as he studied the smaller man. "What exactly did you have in mind, Vila?"

"Well, you keep yourself pretty distant from everyone. I know you want it that way, but you must get lonely sometimes. I thought maybe you could use someone to, you know, be close to. . . ." He hesitated, dropping his eyes. "I mean, whenever you don't want to be alone."

Avon stared at his friend incredulously for a moment, trying to work out if what Vila had said could mean anything other than what he thought it meant. He swallowed. "Are you saying that you want to sleep with me, Vila?"

Vila stared into his lap. "Only if it's what you want. Look, if it's not, just say so. I'll leave and I'll never mention it again." 

When Avon didn't respond, Vila stood and dejectedly turned toward the door. Suddenly Avon's hand held his arm. "Don't. Don't go, please."

Vila met Avon's eyes apprehensively.

"It is what I want, Vila -- what I've always wanted. I just never thought you. . . ."

"Never thought I'd what -- want you?"

Avon nodded. "You have had a lot of. . .unpleasant sexual experiences with men -- I should know. I just assumed that you wouldn't want that kind of relationship."

"There's a difference between being raped and making love, Avon. I want to be with you."

Avon smiled. It was an open, warm smile that rent Vila's heart. Avon wanted this -- wanted him. His mouth was suddenly covered by the taller man's, and he felt himself pulled tightly against the well-muscled torso. What began as a slow, sweet kiss grew increasingly passionate, the intensity building until, at last, they parted, breathless. 

Seeing the hunger in Vila's eyes, Avon reached up and stroked his soft cheek. Vila's hands snaked up the silk-clad chest and began to work the buttons. Avon stilled the thief's hands with his own, shaking his head slightly. "No, Vila. Let me. Please." Their eyes held for a long moment, and Vila nodded.

Avon took a step back, so that Vila had a complete view, and slowly, seductively, began removing his own clothing. Vila's breath grew ragged as he watched more and more white skin appear. By the time Avon was fully naked, Vila was fully erect. 

Avon came to him, gazing into his eyes with a look of absolute adoration. Vila was stunned. Avon's feelings mirrored his own. Had they both been suffering in silence all this time? The computer tech's hands drew slowly up Vila's chest, stroking its length several times before meeting at the topmost button. His fingers crept sensously along the soft skin of Vila's chest, moving to each button in turn. 

By the time the shirt was pushed back, falling to the floor, it was all Vila could do to remain still. He knew that Avon wanted to do this, though, so he fought down the powerful urges that tore through him. 

Avon kissed him gently, sweetly, before bending down to remove Vila's shoes. Vila stepped out of them, awed by the wondrous sight of Kerr Avon, naked, gazing up at him, eyes full of warm devotion. 

Avon's hands kneaded up Vila's thighs to slide provocatively over his groin as they made their way to his belt. 

Their eyes were locked together as Avon opened and slid down the trousers, his hands rubbing firmly against Vila's quivering thighs. When Vila had stepped free of his garments, Avon bent down, softly kissing the smaller man's feet. 

With a startled jolt, Vila saw the reversal of the image he had held earlier, of himself kneeling in veneration before Avon. Here was the brilliant Alpha computer tech whom everyone thought so hard, so cold, kneeling of his own volition in reverence to a Delta grade thief. 

No, Vila corrected himself, here was one man, expressing the depth of his love for another. 

Avon looked up as something warm splashed on his back. Vila was crying. His eyes filling with concern. "Vila, what is it?"

"I love you so much," he sobbed, trembling.

Avon pulled him down into his arms and rocked him comfortingly. "I love you, too, Vila. With all my heart. I always have." He felt tears welling in his own eyes.

They sat there on the floor holding each other until Vila calmed. Avon kissed him tenderly, as though he were something sacred and fragile. He whispered all of the sweet words he had wanted to say for so long. They poured forth, bathing Vila in love. The thief was overcome. He had come expecting nothing, and was being given everything. He clung to Avon desperately, reveling in the feel of his skin, the sound of his whispered devotions, the warm smell of his body. 

At last Vila pulled back, meeting the dark eyes once again. He smiled at his lover in awe, and was rewarded by the return of an identical smile. Vila kissed the full, sensual lips, which responded passionately to him. The kiss slowly deepened, and Vila suddenly felt himself being lifted in the other man's arms. Avon carried him to the bed, their mouths still engaged, and gently lay him down, stretching across him. Vila could feel Avon's hard erection pressing into his own. He moaned against Avon's mouth, and arched his hips into the other man's. Avon responded with a gasp, and he pulled Vila tight against him, rolling them over so that Vila lay on top of him. 

Neither man had the control to prolong this first encounter. Vila wriggled against Avon, pressing his hips into him. He reached down, taking Avon's hardness firmly in his hand. He began pumping rhythmically. Avon responded in kind, and they rocked together until both were thrusting helplessly against one another. Vila cried out as orgasm ripped through him, and Avon followed suit before Vila had lapsed to stillness. 

They lay unmoving, panting in unison, overwhelmed by the power of their mutual passion. Eventually, Avon began stroking Vila's sweat-damp back. Vila raised his head to kiss his lover softly, lovingly, his hand sliding up into the man's silky dark hair. When he pulled back to look at Avon, he found the other man smiling widely at him. He smiled back. There were no words to express what they were feeling, but their eyes made declarations that were beyond words.

Slowly, Avon shifted and rolled them so that they were lying side by side. With tender care, he began joyously making love to Vila all over again.

* * *

Avon was finding his work rather difficult the next morning. It was not that it was complicated -- in fact, it was strictly routine -- but he couldn't seem to concentrate. Try as he might, he couldn't keep himself from glancing every few minutes across the flight deck at his lover. Each time he did, he found the man grinning brazenly at him, his eyes gleaming happily. It was all Avon could do to refrain from grinning stupidly back at him. He managed to give Vila that bare hint of a smile, but, on each occasion, he had to fight to tear his eyes back to the console in front of him. 

For his part, Vila couldn't take his eyes off of Avon. The memory of their night together, and the anticipation of a lifetime of nights to come, filled him with a kind of ecstasy that he couldn't begin to suppress. He was only marginally aware of the others on the flight deck. He wondered if they could hear his heart pound every time Avon met his eyes. 

At last, the interminably long shift was over, and the two men rose as casually as possible to leave. Blake caught up with them in the corridor.

"What's going on with you two?" he asked curiously. "You've both been behaving strangely all day."

Avon met his eyes levelly, but didn't answer. Vila blushed, studying his shoes and trying to suppress his smile.

"If you don't want to tell me, just say so," Blake continued, "but if it affects the ship, I really would like to know."

"It doesn't concern you, or the ship, Blake. It is between Vila and myself, and it is personal." Avon hoped the rebel would take the clue, so that he could avoid spelling it out.

Blake nodded, certain that he did understand. His paranoia about Avon leaving the ship had blinded him to other possibilities. He turned and asked Vila directly, "Are you planning to go with him, Vila?"

"Go?" Vila looked up, confused.

"Well, that is what this is about, isn't it? Avon has finally found his bolt-hole, and he's talked you into leaving with him, hasn't he."

Vila stared at their leader, dumbfounded.

"No, Blake," Avon interjected. "I have not found a 'bolt-hole'. In fact, I have no plans to leave the ship. So, if that is what you are worried about, you can relax -- for the moment."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Do you mind telling me why? You've made it clear from the beginning, Avon, that you were simply waiting for the opportunity to run."

"Perhaps, but things have changed." He deliberately took a step closer to Vila, standing so that they nearly touched shoulders. "Vila wishes to stay here, for the time being. So. . .we will stay."

Blake's eyes widened a fraction, as he attempted to hide his surprise. "I see. Well. Good." He could think of nothing further to say.

"Now, if you will excuse us, we have plans for the evening."

Blake nodded dumbly, as the two men turned and disappeared down the corridor.

Once in Avon's cabin, both men burst into laughter, Avon nearly collapsing into Vila's arms. They landed on the couch, shaking with uncontrollable humor.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Vila managed to get out after several minutes. "I thought he was going to bust a gut."

"I could barely keep a straight face, myself." Avon replied through his laughter. 

When most of the laughter had passed, Vila settled more comfortably against Avon. "I hope you don't mind him knowing. I didn't really expect you'd want to tell anyone."

"Why? I don't care what anyone thinks, Vila. Besides, I rather doubt we would have been able to keep it a secret for very long. Neither of us seems to have much self-control."

"Yeah, I'd noticed that," he nuzzled into Avon's neck, kissing him warmly. "It's great, isn't it?"

Avon moaned softly in response to Vila's attentions, before responding, "Yes, Vila. It is great."


End file.
